


A Lemon-Yellow Umbrella

by oisugasuga



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:18:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9290000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oisugasuga/pseuds/oisugasuga
Summary: Oikawa dreams of being with Suga.





	

Oikawa feels like he’s falling, tumbling, dropping, the breath caught in his lungs and his heart pounding against the fragile bones of his ribcage.

 

Even though his sneakers are firmly planted on the sidewalk beneath him, even though he’s standing still, even though he can still hear the thunk his cellphone had made when it had slipped from his fingers and cracked against the ground, Oikawa feels like the world is shifting, tilting, the busy streets around him flipping upside down and changing in ways he could never imagine before now.

 

It’s not the normal type of falling, the type that can be terrifying or disorienting or painful. 

 

It’s exhilarating, energy thrumming over his skin, a feeling of weightlessness that leaves him speechless.

 

The boy standing directly in front of him looks like he’s experiencing the exact same sensation, his large eyes wide with surprise and wonder and hope, his lemon-yellow umbrella lying forgotten by his feet, the rain caught in his eyelashes like translucent constellations.

 

Around the two of them, the nighttime rush of the city keeps bustling, people parting around them and leaving them in this empty half-space that echoes with the words both of them just spoke a few seconds before.

 

_"Ah, sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going."_

 

_"It’s alright, I couldn’t really see from under this thing, so it’s partly my fault too."_

 

Oikawa forces himself to tear his eyes away from the other, glances down at the bare skin of his forearm where the sentence he’s had memorized since he was old enough to read is painted in inky-black strokes, a comforting neatness to the straight lines and perfect apostrophes, different from the messy scrawl he’s developed over the years.

 

Raindrops run down over the words but don’t smudge them, trail glittering paths down the back of Oikawa’s hand and then drip from his fingertips.

 

He’s spent his entire life thinking about them, lying awake at night in bed after a particularly bad day wishing he could talk to the owner of the handwriting across his arm, daydreaming in class with his chin propped up on a hand, watching the clouds drift by lazily outside and trying to envision what the person would look like when he finally met them.

 

"Um, excuse me, but-"

 

The voice snaps Oikawa back from his dazed thoughts, jerks him back to reality, back to the pitter patter of rain and the non-stop clamor of Tokyo, the voice Oikawa has been waiting to hear for years somehow how he had always expected it to be, sweet and lilting.

 

The boy has stepped just a little bit closer, his fingers having tugged up the right sleeve of his yellow and white-striped raincoat to reveal a smooth expanse of skin, marked by a handwriting Oikawa has viewed daily, that he would recognize anywhere; his name scrawled across the top of an exam paper, the time written down in one of the practice logs for volleyball, a fifteen-page letter he had painstakingly scratched down under the crappy lighting of the subway station just last week to mail back to his family and friends in Miyagi.

 

_"Ah, sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going."_

 

Oikawa’s eyes find the boy’s, his golden gaze resting on Oikawa’s face with a delicate resolve, with unbelievable vulnerability, as if he’s been through this many times before and is steeling himself for Oikawa to say, "Oh, sorry, I don’t have your words on my skin."

 

Oikawa wants to erase the look from his face, feels a vivid ache bloom just under his ribcage, the glass-tipped petals resting right against his heart and threatening to cut, and he quickly steps forward, raises his own arm for the boy to see, watches him read the words, _"It’s alright, I couldn’t really see from under this thing, so it’s partly my fault too."_ , and then waits for his reaction.

 

The boy just stares for a few long seconds, the fluorescent lights of the LED advertisement screens all around them splashing his face with clouds of cerise and amethyst and cerulean, staining the tips of his sterling hair, and then his eyes slowly rise to meet Oikawa’s steady gaze, wide and open and clear, and Oikawa feels it, the unspoken agreement between the two of them, feels the lovely thud his heart gives and can’t help but reach out and tuck a strand of damp hair back behind the other boy’s ear.

 

His soulmate blinks up at him, his mouth curving up in a smile that leaves Oikawa’s heart swelling with affection.

 

Somehow, within the next breath and the next, they find their palms sliding together, the rain leaving their fingertips slippery until they entangle them, a perfect fit, and Oikawa opens his mouth to speak, to say something, to ask for his soulmate’s name, but a glow that is different, softer, than the lights bleeding across the sidewalks and the roads around them, suddenly flares between them.

 

Oikawa watches in speechless amazement, his soulmate’s face registering the same surprise, Oikawa close enough to feel his sharp intake of breath when a crimson thread appears wrapped around the graceful curve of his wrist, the other end twirling, weaving, tangling through the air to wrap around Oikawa’s wrist.

 

The string that connects them is warm, delicate but strong, and suddenly Oikawa remembers.

 

He lets go of the hand around his, raises both hands to cup the other boy’s face instead, pushing back his bangs, stroking the pad of his thumb over the edge of a cheekbone, trying to focus on what he needs to do, what he has to do, even as his soulmate leans into the touches, even as Oikawa wants to kiss him.

 

"What’s your name?" he asks quickly, breathlessly, the other boy stepping closer until their shoes are in between each others, until Oikawa can count the scattering of moles that trail down the pale curve of his throat, his hands coming up to cup Oikawa’s face shakily, the need to touch flowing between them.

 

The boy tries to talk, Oikawa can see it, watches his throat work, realizes that it is actually true that names cannot be exchanged here and feels foolish for even daring to try, for wasting time.

 

His soulmate frowns, worry tugging his features down, his eyebrows rising with bewilderment.

 

"What-," he starts, but Oikawa shakes his head, leans forward to brush their cheeks together, raindrops dripping from his hair, trembling on the edges of his eyelashes until he blinks them away, lets their foreheads rest together.

 

"Shhh, it’s okay," he soothes, his heart catching in his throat when he begins to feel the sidewalk beneath their feet tremble, the lines and edges and colors of the city smudging and smearing with the rain, the only things that remain unwavering the two of them, the words on their arms bold and true and permanent.

 

"It’s the dream," Oikawa says, trying to speak fast, seeing realization slowly light up in his soulmate’s eyes.

 

The buildings waver, flicker once, twice, and then disappear, the florescence going with them, taking the people and the cars and the sounds, leaves Oikawa and the boy on a rain-soaked sidewalk that seems to linger in a half-world of slate-gray shadows and wisps of pale violet and shimmering gold.

 

"We’ll find each other tomorrow," Oikawa continues, fighting the pull of reality that is tugging on the edge of his shirt, the weight of consciousness that is slowly settling over his eyelids and that leaves the taste of sleep in his mouth.

 

"We’ll meet here," his soulmate agrees, brushing the backs of his fingers across Oikawa’s cheek, and Oikawa wants to listen to him speak forever, but the rest of the world is crumbling away, the sidewalk cracking under their feet and turning into nothing, and Oikawa only manages to lean the rest of the way forward and brush their mouths together for a split second before everything goes dark.

 

 

 

Oikawa paces across the edge of the road, the rain soaking through his shoes and darkening his shirt because he had been in so much of a rush after his last class of the day that he had forgotten his coat on the back of his chair.

 

Nerves leave his heart beating irregularly against his throat, leave him clenching white-knuckled fists at his sides, leave him trying desperately to remember the details of the dream he had had last night, the dream that he had woken up from gasping, the skin of his right forearm tingling.

 

He’s finally had the dream, after so many years of waiting, after watching his friends come to school bubbling over with excitement, or to practice to let their coach know that they would be leaving the city for a few days that afternoon because their soulcall was located in the next town over.

 

Soulcalls were dreams, messages to tell a person that they would meet their soulmate the next day, in the location and time they had met them in the subconscious, but they weren’t foolproof.

 

Oikawa has witnessed people who had missed their soulcall, who had to wait for an unknown amount of time before they received another one, has seen people decide not to answer their soulcall.

 

There are many different reasons why Oikawa may or may not meet his soulmate tonight, and even though his soulmate had seemed just as desperate to meet Oikawa in the real world, Oikawa can’t help but feel anxious.

 

What if the boy lives in a different country and doesn’t make it here in time, the memory of this stretch of sidewalk and the rain and the bright, bright colors staining everything around them erased from both of their minds?

 

What if he gets lost in the chaos of the nighttime rush and they pass right by each other without even realizing it?

 

What if-

 

Oikawa turns on his heel sharply, his cellphone clutched tightly in his hand, the urge to call Iwaizumi just to settle the pulse thrumming in his veins pounding down with the rain against his shoulders, and immediately collides with a figure, a lemon-yellow umbrella slipping from the other person’s fingers to lie forgotten at their feet.

 

"Ah, sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going," Oikawa says without thinking, an unsettling feeling of deja vu hitting him straight in the stomach, hovering around his head like clouds.

 

The boy he nearly knocked over looks up at him with a smile that is genuine but also edged with something that is very similar to the air of tension that has been lingering around Oikawa’s shoulders the entire day, as if he’s searching for something and still hasn’t found it.

 

But at Oikawa’s words, the boy hesitates, the smile slipping a little, his eyes widening just a fraction before he responds, voice sweet, wrapping around Oikawa’s wrist like a red thread.

 

"It’s alright, I couldn’t really see from under this thing, so it’s partly my fault too."

 

Oikawa’s cellphone slides from his fingers, hits the ground with a crack.

 

He doesn’t bother looking at the writing on his arm, just steps forward, his hand finding the one searching for his, their fingers tangling.

 

A question lingers in the rain-soaked air, flutters around their heads in a spray of gold flecks, and the boy peers up at him from under long, dark eyelashes, a beautiful smile curving his mouth up.

 

"Suga," he says. "My name is Sugawara Koushi."

**Author's Note:**

> day 5 of oisuga week: harmony (i immediately thought of soulmates)
> 
> so i've officially fallen behind on prompts, so i won't guarantee that the next one will be out by tonight, but a girl can dream, right?
> 
> tumblr: [(◕ฺー≦)ノ](http://oisugasuga.tumblr.com/)


End file.
